


Gift Horses

by Yidenia



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Fantastic Four, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yidenia/pseuds/Yidenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is not a bad man, but neither is he a good one, especially when it comes to being a guardian. Peter had always been wary of him, even as a child, because he never understood why a multibillionaire genius like Tony Stark would be willing to put up with a kid like him when they were not even related. One thing he was certain of, though: if the CEO/Iron Man ever learned that his ward was the vigilante Spider-Man, Peter Parker would have no home. Trouble is, Tony Stark is a very smart man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of stories on the internet that feature Peter Parker going through a bratty teenage stage. Considering he did go through that in the comics with his aunt and uncle, this makes sense, but it makes less sense if he's being raised by Tony Stark, the guy that doesn't do well with kids and was probably rarely home. I feel that if teenagers don't feel secure in their own homes, and they wish to stay in said homes, they would be better behaved (it's different if the teenager genuinely hates his or her parent(s) and wants out). Tony Stark does not strike me as a very reliable, reassuring father figure, and a guy who treats people around him so flippantly would not reassure Peter either. This is my take on how this relationship would work.

Chapter One

"This is great," Wilson exclaimed as Peter shot a string of web at the next building, "I'd make a joke about Japanese stuff, but that would be too easy, so instead I'm going to say that there will be a _ton_ of calamari after this. You can feed all of Africa at this point. And South America. You think they can put this stuff into tacos? Octopus tacos! That sounds disgusting and yet strangely compelling."

The monster, which could only be described as a giant octopus, was flattening buildings with every lash of its tentacles. It was almost fifty feet tall, and that was just the head. Its skin was a swirl of blue and moonlight white, which appeared to change color as more police shot at it. Below the car tires squeaked and the pavement cracked as the creature smashed down.

Peter swung up and stuck to a wall, Wilson still clinging to his back.

"I don't know how to approach this," Peter admitted. This thing was _huge_. And slippery. "If the police would stop shooting at it, I can lure it out to the sea."

"Ooh ooh ooh, if you do, make sure you go towards the statue. Lady Liberty and the Octopus. It would be the best thing ever. Especially if you get it to climb _onto_ the Lady. That would be _hot_."

"Dude, seriously?"

Before Wilson could retort, a blur of gold and red glided past them, heading straight toward the octopus.

"Oh god," Peter muttered as Iron Man shot a missile from his shoulder. "How come _he_ gets to be called a hero for making stuff explode, and _I_ get called a menace for not catching a few debris?"

"Because you _don't_ make stuff explode. Duh!" Deadpool whacked him on the head. "Not that it doesn't make you any less cool. You're still like, the awesomest superhero ever. I would totally vote for you if there were a poll. Which there is. Somewhere on the internet. I'm googling for it tonight."

The explosion caused the octopus to emit a shrill shriek, and the bits of its flesh shot out to shatter several windows.

"Oh wow," said Deadpool in a voice that was as close to thoughtful as Peter had ever heard. "I didn't know these things have a _voice_. A singing octopus!"

"I wouldn't call that 'singing'," Peter said wryly, before shooting a string of web to leave his perch.

Deadpool let out a loud whoop as they swung down. Sometimes Peter could not decide whether Wade Wilson was more annoying or more scary. The guy switched moods like a maniac, going from cheerful and easy to full of fury within seconds. Every so often he would try to poke Peter with his gun. Peter's spider-sense never flared for those yet, but it was still unnerving.

They came back up on the other side, where Peter landed on the ground, releasing his web to let it dangle from the building. Iron Man was shooting more missiles at the monster, which made Peter wonder how many missiles were stored on that armor. He wished he could have access to the labs, because then he would make stuff "explode", the way Deadpool said, and in this particular situation he would be less useless. Granted, while the missiles were injuring the creature more than the bullets were, it was not exactly slowing the monster down; the octopus started flailing all of its tentacles in a rage.

At least in this case, Peter could be of some use. Deadpool hopped off his back as soon as they reached the ground, and they started getting people out of the way of the collapsing buildings. He heard the roar of the Hulk as it jumped down onto the creature.

"This is _awesome!_ " Deadpool trilled while chunks of concrete rained down over him. "If everyone from Marvel shows up, it will be a party!"

"Marvel?" Peter yelled back, dumbfounded. _Where is that?_

"Yes, as in marvelous! Get it? You don't get it. You are so adorable I can _kiss_ you!"

Peter swung himself away before Deadpool could make good on that suggestion, because if Wade Wilson could wear a dress, he could attempt to kiss Spider-Man.

"Well, not like in _that_ way. I like girls." Wilson stood with his hands on his hips and looked up at where Peter now was. "They got parts men don't got, and don't got parts men got. But like, those cheeks. On your face. I bet they're super squishy."

"Deadpool, _focus_!" Peter could not understand how the mercenary could just stand there and listen to himself talk while other people needed help. His spider-sense tingled. "Look out!"

He dove into Deadpool to fling him out of the way as a whole roof fell straight for them. The merc went sailing as a terrible pain burst from Peter's legs. He was crushed into the ground, hands splayed out, his head numb from the agony and stomach churning with nausea. His skin suddenly felt loose, tingling and yet dulled to sensation. Black spots bloomed in front of his eyes.

"Spidey!" Deadpool yelled, before swearing and running to him. "Come on, Spidey, you're okay. You're okay. Just a roof. You've had worse things thrown at you before. Come on!"

Peter could not even scream. Overhead, he heard the thrusters of the iron suit as Tony Stark flew past, ignoring the duo and focusing on the octopus.

 _Goblin, Venom…out of all the things to get me…_ Peter's eyes fluttered closed before he knew it.

* * *

Between Iron Man and the Hulk, they managed to finally kill the thing. Hulk looked ready to smash other things, so for a moment there was an ominous pause where Tony thought he was going to have to subdue him too. Thankfully, all that happened was Hulk yelling "Arrrgh!" and then Tony, in one of his moments of inspiration, yelling "Arrrgh!" back, and after a back-and-forth, Banner finally came back to himself. Turned out, even the Hulk could not last against a Stark.

Afterwards, Tony helped with a little bit of the cleanup. Normally, such a thing would be left to Spider-Man, but while Tony had seen the guy swinging around earlier, there was no sign of him once the octopus was killed. Not that Spider-Man's webs could have helped very much with the corpse; the mayor was tearing out his hair at the task of trying to get the thing out of the streets. It was like dealing with a dead whale, except whales tended to stick close to beaches, where blowing them up with dynamite would not also cause collateral damage.

Tony stuck around to help lift its giant tentacles out of the debris. It could not fit on a single truck, so they had to cut it into many pieces. It was nasty work. He was very happy when he got home.

"You'd think this city would catch a break," said Tony as his suit unraveled, "It's like everything happens in this city. Why can't this sort of nonsense happen in Brazil? Or Thailand? Russia. Those folks there are already superhuman, they don't need any further upgrades. Tell Pepper that I'm in the lab if she needs me."

 _'As you wish, sir,'_ said Jarvis. _'By the way, young Mr. Parker has not returned home from school.'_

It was nine-o-clock.

"Probably with that Osborn kid," Tony made a face. "Those two hang out _way_ too often. Makes making his dad look stupid very awkward."

_'Harry Osborn had called about an hour ago to ask for Mr. Parker. He has apparently attempted to contact him by his mobile phone with no success.'_

"You're hinting a lot. Why'd I give you that function? Fine. I'll give Peter a call."

It was not that Tony did not care about Peter. In terms of a ward, Peter was probably the best of the bunch. The kid never gave him any trouble, ever. He never misbehaved, always obeyed instructions, especially when said instructions were to stay out of the way. Pepper had actually been concerned about this, stating that usually children would prefer even negative attention, as long as they got some, but who was Tony to question small blessings? Tony understood nothing about kids. He wanted to do right by the boy, but he just was not the best person for the job. The most Tony could do was to give the boy resources so he would never want for anything. Beyond that, he preferred what he called the “do-nothing” policy of parenting, which was that unless the problem is extremely dire, Tony would do nothing. And maybe even do nothing if something were very dire. Like if Peter ever had girl problems. He could talk to Happy about those. Or even Rhodey.

It really was ideal for him to keep the child as far away as possible. Do not get involved, and keep going about life as before Peter ever showed up, before Ben and May were killed and he was obliged to look after his good friend’s son.

_“Hey, this is Peter Parker. Please leave a message after the beep!”_

“God, that’s so generic,” Tony muttered, shutting off the phone. Could Richard’s son be more boring? “Look, Jarvis, I don’t have time for this. How about if he doesn’t contact us or come back in an hour, you give him a call again. I’ll be down in the lab.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments! I'm glad that this is a viable premise. I've been working on these after my shifts, so they're a little rusty. Might come back and polish this later.

Gift Horses

Chapter Two

If it were not for Pepper, Tony would have been in the lab all day.

“Peter is missing,” she exclaimed. “He never came home last night, and I can’t reach him on his phone.”

Pepper, unsurprisingly, was the main caretaker when Peter Parker came into their lives. While Tony did have a tendency to take people for granted, even he had to admit that Pepper had something like magic about her—in the most scientific way possible, of course. Peter was eleven going on twelve, right on the cusp of adolescence when children began getting difficult. Peter was never hard to deal with, but he had always been something of an enigma. Most of their sparse encounters consisted of Tony making a quip and Peter laughing awkwardly before finding a way to get out of range.

In short, Pepper was the one who worried about Peter when he was sick, congratulated Peter when he did well in his classes, agonized over his social life, and freaked out when he was missing.

Well, now that he was missing. Peter had never been missing before. The words "Peter is missing" were never uttered in that sequence until now.

Tony was worried—he would not have a heart if he did not worry—but worrying was an awful feeling, one that he liked to drown with alcohol. Or excuses.

“He’s sixteen. Don’t teenagers typically do this? Have sleepovers and stuff?”

“Not without informing their parents. This is not like him.” Pepper was too anxious to be angry with him. “Oh god, what are we going to do? What if something happened to him and we don’t even know?”

Pepper was a bit of a worrywart when it came to Peter, so Tony was not inclined to follow her lead.

“I’m sure he’s _fine_. He’s probably just held up somewhere with his friends.”

“I called Harry Osborn. He said Peter never responded to his calls and he had no idea where he is.”

That was…big. Peter and Harry were tight, despite Tony's best efforts. Admittedly, he did not try _very_ hard to split the two up; kids were kids, and he never monitored Peter's activities. It was not like Peter had access to the labs, where he could learn secrets about Stark Industries to leak to Osborn. Besides, Tony figured that Norman should do some of the work to divide the boys if it mattered, so if the man refused to do it, Tony would not either.

If Harry had no idea where Peter was, and Pepper had no idea where Peter was…the situation was starting to look very bad.

“Get Happy to look for him.”

“He _is_.”

“Well then,” Tony shrugged, “What else can we do?”

But even so, his chest tightened, as if Pepper’s anxiety were contagious. There was a lurking shadow over his mind, an ominous feeling that the child might be in trouble and Tony did not even know. All of the sudden, he was flashing back to that ridiculous excuse of a monster, because however silly a giant octopus was, uptown Manhattan was still completely totaled.

_What if Peter had been there?_

Pepper finally lost her temper with him.

“I don’t believe this,” she snapped. “He’s _your_ ward, and yet I bet you hardly know what he looks like.”

“What?” Outrageous! Of course Tony knew what he looked like. The splitting image of Mary Parker, actually, because boys tend to look like their mothers. He clung to the indignation, because that felt better than fear. "I know how he looks. He looks like Bambi. If Bambi were human."

Pepper’s phone rang before she could retort, and she hurriedly answered it. “Happy? What do you mean?…Oh my god.”

“What?” Now Tony’s fear spiked. “Don’t ‘oh my god’ right now. Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Peter’s backpack.” Pepper looked at Tony with wide eyes. “Happy found it near a dumpster.”

* * *

    Crush injuries could kill a man. Peter sort of wish it had.

    “After this I get to stay with you in your Spidey-Cave right? Right?”

    The worst part was that Peter could not banter back somehow, because he was in so much pain that it was sapping away all of his energy. Wilson had set his legs while he was unconscious, something that had apparently involved a lot of blood because the carpets were stained with it. Not that Deadpool’s apartment was clean to begin with; there were rats scuttling along the corners every ten minutes, and the floors were littered with rotting tomatoes and bits of tortilla crisps. The only place that was clean was the bed, but it smelled like Deadpool. It was not a good smell. The man did not shower as often as he probably should.

    “I get to play doctor for sexy Spider-Man!” Deadpool gloated. “My touch makes you better. My healing touch. Hahahaha!” This was too much, and he doubled over in laughter.

    Peter moved to sit up, but even the slightest intention sent stabbing agony through his legs. He uttered a groan, which luckily went unheard by Deadpool, but as the merc laughed on, the teen started to realize that he was in very deep trouble.

    He could not move his legs. That meant he could not stand. Though he had an impressive healing factor, he would still be unable to walk for at least a week, maybe more. A crush injury like this could kill a man, and at best cripple him. Peter might not be crippled, but his absence would be noticed.

    He needed to get in contact with Pepper or Happy. Tony might not even realize he was gone. The man tended to disappear down to his labs for nights on end, and when he emerged, he usually had a nubile woman hooked around his arm. Tony had never taken much interest in Peter, even when Peter proved to be a genius and started college this year. Sometimes Peter wondered if Tony even knew he was paying for a college education.

    But Pepper…Pepper would notice, and she might send Happy to look for him, and Peter could not risk getting Happy hurt again on his account. Once was already too much, when Peter’s ego had gotten the best of him during the worst of times. The man had his own family and home; Peter could not make him drive around the city just because—

_Just because my legs are crushed to bits and I’m stuck with Deadpool with my mask on._

    Said merc had actually stopped talking, and was staring at him.

    “Yo, Spidey! What’s on your mind?”

    Then he sprawled on top of Peter, avoiding the legs—although if he sat on them, Peter might have had the strength to writhe him off. There was no winning with Deadpool.

    “Get off me—dude! What gives?”

    “What do you mean, what gives? You’re all quiet all of the sudden. Though I guess you’ve been quiet for a while, what with being unconscious and all, and then I get to play surgeon and piece all your bones back together. You have nice legs. You’re like a ballet dancer. Rudolf Nureyev. Mikhail Baryshnikov. Is that your secret identity? Are you actually a ballet dancer?”

    Peter wanted to say something, but all of the sudden he lost time, and Deadpool was off of him, slapping his cheeks through the mask.

    “I was _right_! These are squishy! Ajookajookajookajoo! Who’s the cutest Spider-baby ever? Who is it? Who’s the cutest Spider-baby ever?”

    Peter punched him in the face. It was a weak punch, probably no stronger than an actual baby, but Wilson was not expecting it so his head swung back with the blow.

    “Stop it,” he shouted—or tried to, because his voice came out faint despite his best efforts. “I—I need to go home. I need to get home before—before they find out I’m gone.”

    “Before who finds out you’re gone? Some girl? Believe me, I get it—“

    Peter let out a sigh as dizziness took him. Dumb crush injuries. His _legs_ were the ones hit, not his head, and yet he felt like consciousness was slipping from him like his mind were coated with butter.

 _How long was I out?_ “How long was I out, Deadpool?”

    “A night and a day. Took a while getting those bones to align again. You’re lucky I got crushed once, and then I had to get the bones properly before I heal up, so I know where all the pieces go. Nasty stuff! I had to rebreak them again and again. Hurt so much!”

    “Thanks, Deadpool,” Peter breathed out, but then was assaulted by Deadpool who clutched at his face.

    “Oh, anytime Spidey! I would donate my kidney to ya. Mostly because it would also grow back, but I would also donate it if it wouldn’t. What’s a kidney between pals, right?”

    “I’m not your pal…”

    “Aw, your lips deny, but I know in your heart, you’re totally my pal.”

    “I need to get home.” Because Pepper would ask questions, and if it ever came up that he was Spider-Man that the Daily Bugle kept trashing…well, he was not sure she would stand by him either, even if Pepper was the sweetest woman in the world.

    “Sure thing, buddy. Where is it? Granted, if I move ya you’d probably fall unconscious again. Might make the trip easier though…can I use your webshooters?”

    Peter clutched at his head. _I am so screwed._

* * *

   “This the place?” Clint waved his cell phone to transmit the image of the dumpster.

   _“Yeah,” said Stark._

    He sounded as subdued as Clint had ever heard him. Who knew that the arrogant jerk could take things seriously once in a while. Though a child in danger tended togive anyone a pause, even if their hearts occasionally seemed to be made of stone. Or iron.

     _“There are no cameras around there. I don’t know who put the bookbag there, if Peter was with them…I don’t know.”_

    No ransom, for the whole day. If this was a kidnapping, the perpetrators were taking their sweet time. Stark had gotten nervous enough that he asked Clint for the favor; he would have gone to the proper authorities, but Natasha and Clint were the ones with better finesse and subtlety. The Black Widow would have been here as well, but she was off on a mission for SHIELD.

    The archer turned to regard the alley. “Might have to camp out for a while. No one’s around here now.”

   _“Thanks, Barton.”_

    Clint did not know Peter very well. During his acquaintance with Stark, he had only met the boy a handful of times. He remembered a rather shy, awkward, though ultimately nice kid, without any of the spoiled airs Stark carried, or the haughty attitude his peers definitely had. The boy did not appear to be a significant part of Stark’s life. It was a bit of a mystery why Stark agreed to take him in at all. Fury had told Clint that Peter Parker was the son of Richard Parker, who went to college with Stark. They were roommates and got along well together, but separated when Stark came to work at his family’s company upon graduation, and Parker proceeded to earn his graduate degree. The two kept in touch sporadically, but were not particularly close afterwards, as Parker went to work for Oscorps, the rival of Stark Industries, and relations seemed to sour since.

    He knew that the boy was incredibly smart. Just this year, he started attending Columbia University, majoring in biochemistry. Stark was never particularly boastful of his ward’s achievements, however, and if it were not for the occasional insertions from Pepper, Clint would not even have known this boy existed. Stark had only mentioned that Parker was “a good boy” and “very like his father”. Richard Parker was apparently also a very smart, but quiet, and “noble” man.

    Regardless of how Peter Parker really was as a person, this was a sixteen-year-old boy who managed to survive putting up with Tony Stark. Clint was going to get him back in one piece, because anyone who could deal with Tony Stark should not be stuck with child kidnappers.

    And there was also the fact that Stark was kind of becoming his friend, and Clint Barton would be damned if anything happened to his friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments :D I'll keep updating as often as I can. Truthfully how this would work is not completely solid in my mind yet, hence why all the chapters are so short. I usually write longer…I'll prove it at some point, kekeke. No Deadpool in this chapter, for reasons that will be obvious. See notes at the end for why this chapter was written.

Chapter Three

Richard had high hopes for his son.

"He will be a doctor. Research is not what it's said to be," he told his wife, "and Peter deserves more than a life full of staring at filtration kits and _waiting_."

Richard was a smart man, but he was not always a wise man. In his youth, he had two choices: medicine or science. He chose science, thinking that it was better suited for him; he was not a people sort of guy, and having to deal with sick, prickly patients sounded exactly opposite of what he should do. Mother Nature seemed like a much better entity to host, and he enjoyed learning about all the intricacies of _enzymes_ and _proteins_ and the new fancy DNA that Watson and Crick found—stole, it turned out. Because the real discoverer of the double helix was Rosalind Franklin, just as most of Thomas Edison's "inventions" were made by Nicholas Tessla.

It turned out, the world of scientific research was as dirty as Malaysia's government. It was frustrating, because science was supposed to be such a pure aspiration. There should be nothing in the way of the desire to simply learn and explore, but everyone wanted fame, prestige, and for most, it did not matter so much how this was earned. To an extent, Richard could understand it; hopeful projects could take almost a decade to yield fruit, which was a long time of wondering whether one was on the right track. At the end of it, millions of dollars and spilled samples and radiation from isotopes later, all of it could be for naught, because the result was negative. Discovery is more luck than intelligence, and Fame and Fortune favor only the positive results, but if each project took a decade, there were only so many projects an individual could commit to before his life ran out. So people use other means to get these positive results, and as a graduate student, Richard Parker learned just what people could do when a neighboring Primary Investigator stole his idea and published the results before Richard could submit, hence rendering six years of his life worthless and forcing him to start over.

Tony had a good laugh over that one. _'It's what you get for staying in school, bud.'_

He had two choices again when he graduated: academia or industry. Academia was less stressful overall; every year there was a grant season, but once the lab got funds, it could go at its own pace until the following year. However, universities did not pay as well as corporations, so Richard chose the Industry. Oscorps was said to be better than other corporations in that the panels usually wait longer than a month instead of a week before stopping a project, but considering most experiments require years to even justify, this extended period did not mean very much. So Richard was faced with having one project after another ended on someone else's terms, and having someone else dictate which experiments he should run. It was annoying and unsatisfying, but it paid the bills and it wooed Mary, and when Peter was born, he was in too deep to risk starting over in academia when his last successful project was many years ago.

"Peter will go into medicine," he told Mary, "they don't need papers to have a successful career. They don't even need to be that famous, and it's a stable income."

He wanted his son to have a brighter life than he did.

"We should probably see if Peter is even interested in science," his wife pointed out. "Don't put pressure on the child. He's only three."

 _'Yeah no,'_ Ben had laughed when Richard voiced his ambitions for his son, _'Wherever Peter goes, he'll make it, just like you. For now, let him enjoy his childhood.'_

So Richard never told his son what he had hoped for him, believing that the discussion could wait until Peter was a little older, and started showing interests in one thing or another. He figured he would have plenty of time.

* * *

When Richard and Mary died, Ben and May worried about how their middle-class status would affect Peter's options.

"Rich didn't get tutored by our parents," Ben told May, "He climbed up all by himself. No reason Pete can't do the same."

"I just feel like we can't help him as much as his parents would," May lamented.

"It's not God's will," Ben said to May, "but that doesn't mean he still can't get where he needs to go. He can still be a doctor. Dr. Parker. All we need to do is make sure that he gets good grades and is interested in learning. The latter is probably more important, because my parents wanted me to get good grades too, but Richard actually liked to study."

"He's his father's son," May sighed, "and his mother's son too. Surely he would be as much of a bookworm as the two of them combined. And if he gets good enough grades…maybe he can be a doctor."

They would have talked to him, but Peter was still grieving, and neither wanted to place pressure on him when the future was still so murky. As long as Peter was able to live a good, long, happy life, that was all that mattered. The boy was only seven. He still had a lot of potential to fulfill before choosing a career.

* * *

Tony Stark was just glad that the kid was not a "retard".

"I mean it wouldn't look bad," he said to the faintly disgusted Happy, "I look charitable and all, could boost the stocks, but I have no idea what I would have done if Parker's son were stupid."

"One of these days," Happy had said to Pepper, "He's going to regret how callous he is." Neither one of them wanted to see that day badly enough to make it happen, but it sometimes irked them to see how Tony seemed to get away with everything when everyone else had to be more careful.

"He's probably going to wind up like his dad," Tony said regarding Peter, "I mean, apple never falls far from the tree, right? But he's not going to work for Oscorp. No way am I going to raise a kid just to have him work for the enemy. Except as a mole, maybe. Hm. He's small enough not to be noticed."

"He's not going to stay small, Tony," Pepper drawled. "Children grow."

"Really?" Tony's expression could almost convince them that he was genuinely surprised. "I guess Parker was always on the tall side. Scrawny, though. No wonder people walked all over him. Probably gonna do the same to his squirt, I mean look at him. He's destined to be a labrat. Anyway, whatever he turns into, as long as he doesn't die like the rest of the Parkers, it's probably a win." He ignored Pepper's shocked gasp. She should have expected something like that from him, but it was still startling to hear it out loud.

He turned with an absent wave at the two of them.

"Give him a room somewhere and do whatever it is that you do when you need to take care of a kid. I'll be down in the lab."

* * *

Peter wanted to follow in his father's footsteps.

He figured it was what his father would have wanted. He was not sure, because his father was not here to tell him, and no one else knew what Richard Parker would have wanted for his son.

Peter would like to think that his father would have been proud of him regardless of what he did, but just to be safe, he wanted to do what Richard did, because surely his father liked his own field, and would be glad to have his son there with him.

Tony had laughed. "Labrat. See? He'll get walked all over. Just don't go over to Osborn. Ugh."

So when Columbia accepted him, Peter wrote down that he was majoring in biochemistry.

Medicine never even occurred to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for using the word "retard" in that fashion. It just seems so Tony pre-Iron Man, though. He was a bit of a jerk, so I don't see him being particularly PC with his own employees. In addition, I think the word "retard" started getting iffy when people began using it to insult people who are foolish but not developmentally delayed. When people use what you are as an insult, that's kind of insulting, but where this chapter took place, I'm not sure if this actually happened yet.
> 
> I wrote this chapter to illustrate what Peter lost when his family died. It's not so much that Richard Parker should have gone and said "My son will be a doctor!" Asian parents style. It's more that someone had cared enough about Peter to want him to have such a life, for the reasons stated in the chapter. (At this point, the loans for medical schools are not as absurd as they are now.) When Peter lost his parents and then his aunt and uncle, Tony did not care enough to think about what Peter would be when he grew up. He just wanted him to survive. You might have noticed that there was no implication that Peter would inherit Stark Industries if Tony ever decided to step back. I still can't really decide if that's a realistic expectation. If anyone has an opinion about this, leave a note in the comments to explain what you think and why, because I'm truly up in the air about this. I think it can be agreed that Tony's not really the type to think so far ahead that he would consider such a thing when Peter first comes into his care, but later in the story…what do you think? I look forward to reading what you have to say!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited the first two chapters SLIGHTLY.
> 
> People have a tendency to portray Deadpool as this adorable lunatic who somehow acts within the realm of reason despite his reputation for insanity. He's so gentle and caring whenever he has Spidey over, and everyone's just like "d'awwww." Hey, I love Deadpool, he's awesome, but this is probably what would have happened if Spider-Man were ever to be at his mercy.

Chapter Four

Deadpool was like a ticking bomb.

He would swing between moods within seconds, and pranced around with at least one gun in hand, which he used to play the game of switching the safety on and off and testing to see if he would remember which to press the trigger to. He liked to point it at various parts of Peter's body and would squeeze the trigger when the safety was off, but he switched on and off so quickly Peter would hold his breath, expecting something of a bad ending to Russian Roulette. The merc would also scratch himself with a sharp knife and once volunteered to tickle Peter with it. Peter had never met anyone so unhinged. Even his villains were at least consistent.

"So he holds out his left hand to brace himself, and what do you know? The guy actually has _six_ fingers! And there I was with my katana—I know it's no foil, but like, sword, right? So I say"—and he pressed one of his katanas to Peter's neck—"'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.' I did it with the accent and everything and it was _awesome!_ The guy couldn't fence for his life though. Parry. I guess it's not really fencing when you're using a katana…"

"Wilson, seriously, can you take the sharp thing _off_ my neck where my carotid and jugular vessels are? Not really good in a civil conversation."

Peter was close to exploding. He was exhausted; healing took energy, and the constant stress of a lunatic with more weapons than the mafia was making him sick to the point of nausea. Wade Wilson's constant yacking and pointing his gun at things prevented him from falling asleep, and so he became irritable. He was aware that he might say something that would provoke the merc to killing him, but he was not sure what he could do to avoid that anymore.

"Isn't he adorable!" Deadpool sighed, like an amorous young lady in a silent film. "I know, right? Maybe we should make him break his legs more often, so he stays in the same place for once."

 _Right._ It was statements like that one that kept Peter from ignoring the merc. Although now that he thought about it, maybe if he fell quiet, Deadpool would be bored and leave him alone.

But then Deadpool uttered one thing that made Peter's blood run cold.

"You know, he can't run away this time if we try to pull off the mask."

" _No._ No—" but Deadpool was already lunging for him. Fatigue dampened his spider-strength, but desperation and a firm resolve allowed him to capture the merc's wrists and keep them away from his face. He was not sure why Deadpool thought to remove the mask _now_ when he did not before—chalk it up to being insane, perhaps, and not thinking of things in the logical order, but even though he felt better about being able to defend himself for _now_ , he could not keep this up for long.

So he released one hand, and as Deadpool reached for his face, banging his nose along the way, Peter squirted a glob of web onto Deadpool's own mask.

"Oy, not cool!" The merc yelled, ripping it off. "That was my last one!"

His face was horrendous, like he were a burn victim and received third degree burns. Eyelids retracted back without eyelashes, leaving large bits of inflamed sclera above and below his irises. His head was completely bald, and his lips chapped with the occasional scar extending across both, but as he talked he stretched it without concern.

With a growl, he took out the gun, slid the safety switch _off_ , and aimed it at Peter. His forehead contorted as he scowled hideously in potent rage

"Oh, so you're like that, huh?" he growled, "I see what it is. You're all 'thank you Deadpool' when I fix your legs, but when I ask a teeny weeny question, you tell me 'bugger off' like everyone else. You're just the same as all of _them_!"

He had lost his temper before, so Peter knew what to do. "Wade, I was the one who saved you. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have broken my legs."

"…Oh yeah!" And just like that, the merc was happy again. "Huh! That would have hurt a ton! Good thing it was you instead of me. Do you want pancakes?"

"…Yeah, sure." Anything to keep Deadpool from coming back to the thing about the mask. The merc dropped the cloth to head into the kitchen.

"I am soooo good at making pancakes. Just you wait; I am a pancake monster!"

Peter shot more web at the mask so he could pull it to him. Maybe if he hid it under his pillow for three hours, the web would dissolve and Deadpool would forget the whole incident.

* * *

Three nights passed without Spider-Man.

The Bugle had a field day of it at first. "Wall-Crawling Menace Gone, City at Peace", and the police enjoyed how they could stop the scant crimes for a change. The following night, the criminals of the city also started enjoying Spidey's absence, and crime exploded.

Susan, who had a tendency to see the point, was worried because while everyone else might assume that Spider-Man had simply taken a vacation, the Fantastic Four knew that he could actually be in trouble. They were among the few who knew that Spider-Man was not a villain; being the reclusive type, Spider-Man was rarely around to set the record straight, and they only knew more than the others because of Johnny's tenacity (though Susan and Ben would call it "pigheadedness"). Spidey had gotten the four out of scrapes before, and the four had helped him with his own enemies, but in all the battles where they emerge unscathed and the public just took it for granted, there was a real chance that they could actually get hurt and die.

"He's by himself," she said with worry as Johnny chugged milk directly from the carton. "He was always by himself. I've never seen him have any allies, any friends that he actually sticks with."

"He might be an alien," Johnny joked. "I mean, look at Thor. What's up with that?"

"If he got hurt, _no_ one would know," his sister went on. "And no one would care to look for him."

"You worry too much. Spidey is _fine,_ " Johnny laughed, but Reed was rubbing his chin, looking thoughtful, and Ben piped in that if they were not doing anything, maybe _they_ should conduct a search. Especially since it seemed to be for the good of the city.

So Johnny found himself flying across the buildings that night. He sailed over the wreck that was uptown Manhattan, ever since that creature— _really? Giant octopus? Can it get any lamer?_ —had materialized and smashed everything. He settled down on the borders of the perimeter because he had never seen it before. The Fantastic Four had not been involved in helping out. They had been out of town in upstate, and had come back after everything was over.

"Torch!" there was a yell, and Johnny turned to find Hawkeye in the distance, waving at him.

He flew to him.

"Yo," he reached out, and Barton fist-bumped him obligingly. "What's up, man? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Stark's ward. I think he might actually have been here, but the trail has gone cold. I can't be sure of anything."

"Peter Parker?" that scrawny kid? Johnny would not even have known he existed had the kid not shown up once when the Fantastic Four were at the Avenger's Tower. Parker had been in the kitchen when everyone had gone there for coffee; Reed and Stark had just finished arguing about the feasibility of a prototype.

Susan had thought it was wise of Stark to keep the child hidden in case of kidnapping for ransom, but Ben thought Stark was just that obtuse. After seeing the man for himself, Johnny had to agree with the latter, even if he made a show of finding it incredibly agonizing.

"Yeah. Been missing for two and a half days," the archer folded his arms. "No ransom demand. Didn't really look like a kidnapping, honestly."

"How can you tell?"

"His clothes were in his bag," Barton rubbed his chin. "Polo shirt, jeans, and even his socks. We didn't think much of it at first, just used the clothes to identify that it was his, but why would his kidnappers make him strip?"

Johnny felt his face morph into one of dismay. "Huh." He could think of one very horrible reason, but if Barton did not think of it, he was not going to mention it.

"But why would he change clothes and put them in his bag? Even _socks_?"

"…I have no clue, man." Parker was sixteen, Johnny was nineteen, so he figured he would know. "It's not Halloween, and if he were doing some sort of sports thing he would have gym clothes in his bag."

_But if he were a superhero…_

Johnny was no match for Reed—nor did he want to be—and he was always a bit short of his sister when it came to connecting the dots. This was less because of his basic intellect and more because he never really tried. Susan was a constant in his life, someone he knew would always pick him up if he fell and make up for anything he missed.

But Johnny had experienced changing out of flammable clothes on the streets and stuffing them to Susan.

 _Dude, what if…?_ Two and a half days. That was three nights, right?

"Yo, you need any help finding the kid?"

"I won't object." Barton smirked a little, though his eyebrows remained furrowed. He was worried. "I'm going to hack the traffic cameras, see if they saw anything at all." He looked around. "Some of them are down," he sighed, "probably broken before the scuffle. We can see if we see Peter's face anywhere."

 _And maybe Spidey's face,_ Johnny thought grimly.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Johnny's celebrity status won them the screens where the traffic cameras streamed footage before they were destroyed by the giant cephalopod. The security officer went out for a smoke, telling Johnny to "give a holler" if they needed anything. Barton went to the computers at once, bringing up footage of that day.

The cameras did not last particularly long. Not five minutes in, and half of them were already cut down, either because of the electricity or a direct impact from one of the tentacles. The other half gave a poor view because they looked primarily at the streets. Hawkeye did not mind this, because he was looking for Scrawner Parker. Spider-Man, unfortunately, would not swing that close to the ground.

But there was one footage that caught him along the bottom of his swing.

"…Is that Deadpool?" Johnny blinked, not sure what to make of this.

"Figures. They both won't shut up," Barton replied, disinterested. "Though if they teamed up, they would be exponentially more annoying."

"Spider-Man wouldn't team up with a nutcase like Deadpool."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Johnny frowned, "He gets a bad rep because he wouldn't unmask, but he's a good guy."

"You work with him?"

"On occasion, _yeah._ He's saved my life and my sister's life." Feeling a little irritable because of the look the archer was giving him, Johnny added, "You got a problem with that?"

"Simmer down, hotshot," Barton drawled, "I'll take your word for it. Kind of goes against everything I've been told. SHIELD's not really a fan of this guy."

"That's because SHIELD likes to control everything."

"Okay, kid, you want to help or not?"

Raising his arms in acquiescence, Johnny muttered, "Fine, fine." Not like Spider-Man's reputation was his battle to fight. He just wanted to find the bastard and make sure he was still in one piece. Speaking of which, he never did tell Barton what his mission was. "I'm just looking for the guy. Team's kind of worried about him going missing."

"He might have been at the scene," Barton replied the footage. "He looked like he was swinging in that direction. Could be going somewhere else, but given the circumstances…"

"You think he got trapped there?"

"Searched the place. No human life forms. Bunch of rats and opossums though. They were mainly flocking to the crushed Dunkin' Donuts."

"Ha."

"And Deadpool wasn't there at the time." Barton frowned. "Neither was Spider-Man. They certainly weren't helping out when we were there."

"I don't know about Deadpool, I guess he could have shot the thing, but Spidey's only got his wits and his webshooters. They'd probably slide right off the thing. Wouldn't make much sense for him to help out."

"Maybe. Anyway, enough about them. I'm trying to find Parker. He goes to Columbia, which I guess is close by, but it's still like a twenty block walk and is the opposite direction of the Tower."

"Dude, teenagers don't all head straight home after classes, you know. And he's in _Columbia?_ You mean the college Columbia?"

"Yeah."

"How old is he?" Johnny could have sworn Peter Parker looked pretty young when he last saw him.

"Something of a prodigy. He's sixteen years old."

Johnny swore. "That guy has everything."

"Who, Stark? I don't know if he necessarily _has_ Peter Parker. Kid just seems to be there, kind of like an appendix. Although he's really worried about him now, so let's focus."

Johnny scowled a little, puzzled, before doing as he was told. He viewed the footage of the intersection next to the alley where Parker's bag was found. After playing for a moment, he tapped Barton on the shoulder.

"Hm?" The archer glanced at the screen from over his shoulder. "Whoa. That's Parker."

"Yup. He headed into the alley."

"…He headed into the alley."

"Yup."

"…why would he do that? There's nothing there but a garbage dump."

"Meeting someone for marijuana?"

The two men looked at each other.

Barton frowned. "He'd have a joint somewhere in his bag. And his bookbag would smell like marijuana."

"Meeting someone for crack? Dope? Those things don't smell."

Barton swore. "Play back. I want to see who else has been there. We might find the dealers."

A couple of hours later, Johnny stopped the footage and rubbed his eyes. This was not really his idea of a good evening. "I don't think Peter Parker is doing drugs."

"Why would a sixteen-year-old kid walk into a garbage alley and change out of his clothes?"

Johnny felt his blood chill at that, remembering his thoughts from earlier that evening. "Dude, I've got the craziest idea."

"Shoot."

"You know how long Peter Parker's been missing?"

"Since Monday night."

"And how long has Spider-Man been off the streets?"

The older man froze for a moment.

"Noooo," he scowled, "No wayyyyy. No."

"Dude, the kid's a genius. he might very well be capable of hiding this from idiots like us."

"Nooo. I mean…" Barton rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. There is no way. He's just a kid. Spider-Man is…"

"A lot younger than you think. Dude, I've met him and talked to him. _Way_ too many Doctor Who references, but he's a little on the short side and his voice goes way high when he's upset."

"No way," Barton was still denying this. "I mean, if Peter Parker—just shoot me. I will ask Natasha to recalibrate my skull." A heartbeat later, he was suddenly sitting straight. "We have to find Spider-Man. Even if he isn't Peter Parker, he might have a clue as to where he is."

Johnny sighed. "Except the guy is harder to find than a needle in a haystack. I would recommend us having some kind of decoy robbery for him to come to, but he hasn't been doing that lately."

"Well he was last with Deadpool, as far as we know," Hawkeye stood, "and Wade Wilson, unlike Spider-Man, does not hide where he lives."

* * *

"A lab in Azerbaijan?" Tony exclaimed. "There's a country called _Azerbaijan??_ "

"The lab is there. It's funded by the Russians."

"Of course it is." Russia was the source of the craziest experiments on par with the Nazis; Norman Osborn had raved about some of them. In honesty, Tony would have been excited too, because cool science was cool science, regardless of the sponsors. A giant octopus in Manhattan was lame, though, and his ward was missing, and he had not heard from Barton ever since five-o-clock in the afternoon.

"Let's just the nuke the place," he spat. "That'll take care of things, _permanently._ "

Coulson did not react; the man was uncannily aware, something that aggravated Tony even further. "The concern isn't that the octopus was attacking Manhattan; it's that the creature even reached here, bypassing our military sensors. Very likely this was a trial run for something bigger."

"Yeah, maybe a giant _radioactive_ octopus that can come here and give everyone cancer."

"You wanna sit this one out?" Steve asked. "We can head over there without you and see what's up."

"No. I feel like destroying stuff."

"Don't you think Peter would want you to be here?" Natasha pointed out.

"Come on," Tony huffed, "I'll fly right back if I hear anything, but all this waiting is driving me nuts. Let's go over there, blow up some workbenches. Better yet, we can sic an octopus on Moscow, see how _they_ like it. Let's go."

"Are you sure?" Bruce asked.

Tony rubbed his face. Three days now. Ever since Monday night, Peter had been missing, and Tony had been worrying for three days. He spent much of the time willing the phone to ring so Clint would tell him that Peter was fine already, and when he was not trying to make Peter okay just by wishing it, he was thinking about his college friend. God, Richard was such a dork. The guy was so boring. He was like Isaac Newton, always doing science stuff when he should be going to parties and getting girls. If it were not for how they would work together on Tony's pet projects, the two of them would never have gotten along.

Well, they probably still would. Richard was hip in his own way, and as nerdy as he was, he always seemed to know exactly what to say to Tony when he was feeling stressed out about his dad. Maybe it was because they just happened to think on the same wavelength.

And Richard had thought highly of Tony too, because he had invited Tony to Peter's first birthday, though the little brat had stranger anxiety and would not stop crying when Tony approached. Man, Tony hated babies.

Man, Peter was the only thing left of Richard, and Tony could not even keep that alive for its normal lifespan.

"Look, if you guys don't let me go with you, I swear I will fill my swimming pool with vodka and drink all of it _tonight_."

So Tony wasn't the best at coping with stress. So what? He was still a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. Who could blow up labs. In stupid-sounding countries.

* * *

"…yeah we're gonna go over to Deadpool's place. He lives in Harlem. Yeah because Stark's kid has been missing too. Yeah…oh come on, I can handle a dude with a couple of guns. So? Not like anyone we've fought lacked bullets. Besides, I got Hawkeye here. Uh-huh. I mean, if you really want. We're on the roof. See you." Johnny hung up. "Sis says she's gonna come with. Overprotective…blah."

"Probably could use her shield. Deadpool's a crackshot, and there's no way to tell if he's going to shoot first and ask later." Barton folded his arms. He was a good archer, but arrows did not stop bullets, nor cure madness. "When did Spider-Man save your life?"

"Kind of a weird story, actually," Storm replied, relaxing since they clearly were going to wait for the rest of his team to arrive. "Didn't really get along at first, you know. We were taken by the Bugle thing too. Got in a few fights, actually, might have socked him in the eye once."

Spider-Man was not really the standard kind of hero. He was all sneaky and weird, usually crouched and stuck somewhere like a bug, often the ceiling, instead of straight and tall like Captain America. Spiders were nasty things. Johnny hated spiders. They were creepy and crawly and the worst ones were from Australia. A Spider-Man? That sounded more like a villain than the Lizard did. At least Lizards were cute. Well, the geckos were.

And the thing about Spider-Man was that his powers were not really that great. Sticking to walls and having super-strength was nice and all, but when it came to helping people, there was little he could do if he were distracted by a villain. He worked by himself, so he had no ally, and when people got hurt it was often hard to tell if it was his fault or not.

"That son of a gun was fast though, so i didn't always get him. But the thing is, he never hit back, and after a few encounters Sue realized this and we got to thinking that if he were really a bad guy, why wouldn't he hit back? It's not like he can't. Those webs of his are seriously annoying; they take almost supernova to melt. I don't know what that stuff's made of. But he never shot me in the face the way he shoots villains. Just kind of dodged, made some annoying remarks, and then swung away."

"Huh," Barton blinked, thinking it over.

"So one time Reed took us on a hunt for this lunatic—Doc Ock, what a whacko—so we headed down to the Hudson to find this old abandoned shack. Turned out, Doc Ock was waiting for Spider-Man, but we showed up and the trap he set triggered on us instead. It was a magnetic pulse of some sort, made our brains shut down. Woke up to see Spidey fighting Doc Ock. Totally trashed the place, but he managed to trigger the magnetic pulse on Ock instead, and then short-circuited his…tentacles. You know what, I'm starting to think that Doc Ock was behind that giant octopus."

"Ugh," The Thing's voice resonated over the rooftop, and Johnny saw the remainder of the Fantastic Four heading toward them. "Of course _he's_ the one still talking."

"Oh be quiet," Johnny scowled, but it was all in good humor. "At least I have a good voice, unlike someone I know."

"Guys," Sue rubbed her forehead, "not tonight, please? I have such a migraine. Hawkeye, good to see you."

"Likewise," Barton nodded.

"And why are the rest of you here? I thought it was just gonna be Sue," Johnny exclaimed.

"And leave her with you? Who knows what sort of trouble you'll get her into," Ben huffed.

"Deadpool is not someone to be taken lightly," said Reed.

"Anyway, we're here. Where's this guy's apartment?" Sue asked.

They headed down as a group, which was actually kind of hilarious. All five of them: Hawkeye, Thing, Mr. Fantastic, Invisible Woman, and Torch, going down the stairs like they were just visiting friends. Several people throwing garbage into the trash chute stopped and recognized them, but they were so startled and all of them so grim that none of them dared to approach.

Wilson's apartment would have been easy to find, even if they did not have the number.

_"It was like that scene where the guy was like 'Bring out your dead!' and I was like 'I'm not dead! I feel happy! I feel happy!' and then I shot him in the face. Why are you making that face, Spidey?"_

_"Oh my God, get off my leg Deadpool!"_

_"Oh pfft don't be such a wuss. I can sit on a toddler's leg and they wouldn't cry. I think. Are you crying? I can't tell because of your mask."_

Hawkeye and Johnny exchanged a look.

_"Hey I just want a look—"_

_"Wilson, **no** means **no.** Get off my leg!"_

_"What? I just want a peek. What color eyes do you have? I'm betting baby blue. You're the baby-blue sort of guy."_

_"I'm going to puke…"_

_"Hey, stop pushing me!"_

_"Get off me, you lunatic!"_ Spider-Man's voice came out as half sob and half scream.

Deadpool's shout was even louder.

_"LUNATIC HUH?!!! I'LL SHOW YOU LUNATIC YOU PIECE OF—"_

The next word was covered by a loud gunshot, followed by silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Azerbaijan is a stupid-sounding name.
> 
> Though don't ask me to pronounce it.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

“Hey whaddup yo, Spy-eye and the Frustrated Four. Wait what? Of all of them, I get _you?_ ” Deadpool angled his head to Clint. “Ugh, I was hoping for Black Butt. Black Widow! I meant Black Widow…hm…guess that doesn’t really help.”

Reed Richards had already stepped past with one elongated stride. Clint wrinkled his nose at the smell. This place was absolutely foul. It was clear Deadpool did not own a trash bin. He was surprised the neighbors did not call to complain about it, although they had not smelled the odor through the door. _Thick walls and thick doors._ He stepped gingerly, but there was no way to avoid stepping on some rotting food, pizza box, or wrapper.

Keeping an eye on the merc, arrow notched and ready, Clint made his way through the main room toward the bedroom where Reed had stopped.

“Spider-Man?”

Clint peered over with his peripheral vision to see Spider-Man’s colors on the…ceiling. His hands and legs splayed out roughly, very like a spider, though one leg was not sticking to the top.

“Oh good.” Spider-Man’s voice sounded weak and high-pitched, as Torch had mentioned it could. “I would be glad to see literally _anyone_ at this point, but Mr. Fascinating is good enough. Fantastic. I knew you were Mr. Fantastic.” Spider-Man’s voice grew increasingly muffled, like he were mumbling. “S’ry. Lips numb. I—“

He fell. Richards let out a loud “Whoa!” and caught him, but the other still hit the floor through his stretched arms.

“Are you okay?”

“Did he shoot you?”

Spider-Man grunted, but it sounded like a no.

“Dude, what happened to your leg?” Torch exclaimed.

“…sat on it,” Spider-Man groaned.

Deadpool burst into giggles. “I sat on Spider-Man. Heeheehee!”

“When did you break them?” Susan Richards asked.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” her husband added.

“Hey, Spy-eye, take it easy on the sharp stick,” Deadpool lifted a hand to grab the arrow, but Clint jerked it back.

“Guys, we’re leaving,” he announced. “I’ve had enough of this place.”

“What, you’re not gonna stay around for tacos? I was gonna order chimichangas earlier.”

“Right, before you decided to shoot him?”

“Hey, he called me a lunatic!”

“You were sitting on his _broken leg_ ,” the Invisible Woman glared.

“Besides,” Wilson went on, “I missed.”

“Where are you taking me?” Spider-Man groaned as Grimm, with not even a grunt of effort, lifted his body up like a doll.

“Baxter?” he asked Richards, who nodded.

“Let’s get you somewhere where people won’t sit on your _broken limb,_ ” Torch also glared at Wilson.

“He’s going cold,” said Grimm. “I can feel it through the suit. And he’s soaked.”

“He’s going into shock. Hang in there,” Richards instructed, “We’re taking you somewhere safe.”

Spider-Man did not answer.

* * *

“He’s _where?_ ”

 _“Yeah,”_ Pepper’s voice was wry. _“I mean, I kind of get it. Tony’s never been the type to just sit around. But yeah. Whatever you’re thinking, yeah.”_

Barton said something uncouth. Sue taped down the IV drip before patting Peter’s arm. “Let me know when you stop feeling nauseous.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop feeling nauseous,” Peter sighed, looking more scared than anything. Sue tried to explain that sometimes one should share secrets with allies, but he was pretty mortified that he could not stop them from taking off his mask. Even if it was because they were making sure he was breathing.

“Nauseated,” Reed corrected, because he was just hopeless sometimes. “Nauseous is when _you_ are the one creating the nausea.”

“Learn to let it go once in a while, dear,” Sue threw him a look, but her husband was too busy typing on his computer to notice.

Barton hung up. “Bastard’s gone to Afghanistan. Or wherever that country is. Aberjini. Whatever.”

“…”

“Oh good,” Peter sighed, wiping at his face. “Please don’t tell him I’m here.”

“We’re not telling that guy anything,” Barton growled. He was normally quite unflappable, but the archer looked very angry this time. “That guy has the nerve to leave the country when his son is missing? He can think you’re dead for all I care.”

“Clint,” Sue remonstrated. She did not bother correcting that Peter was not Tony's actual son.

It said something when Peter voiced, “Oh thank god,” when he heard that his guardian was nowhere nearby. “He’d so kill me if he ever figured out.”

Clint did not refute this, because before meeting the Fantastic Four and realizing Spider-Man was Peter, he had thought the vigilante was a villain.

“What were you doing with _Deadpool_ , man?” Johnny asked. “And why were you letting him piggy-back on your web-slinging?”

“He said he’d help. And he sorta did, I mean, we got a lot of the people out of the way before the building crashed on top of me.” Peter sounded sullen. “I don’t know if they _all_ got out; Wilson refused to tell me.”

“Typical,” Sue frowned.

“Please don’t tell anyone else who I am,” Peter was still distressed about that. “I want my normal life separate from my Spider-Man life. Peter Parker by day, Spider-Man by night, or whenever there’s trouble, and I don’t want these to mix.”

“Don’t you think you should at least tell Pepper or Happy?” Barton asked.

“No!” Peter exclaimed. “They still work for Tony! Why would they choose me over him?”

“They’re better people than that!”

“I know, but I don’t want to place them in such a difficult position. Please don’t tell them…”

“Okay,” said Sue, placing a hand on his forehead, which was clammy and cold. He was still very weak. “We can talk about this later, but for now we won’t say a word. Okay?”

Peter breathed out a sigh. She eyed the poor child, biting her lip.

Barton ducked his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

“Because Osborn is an idiot,” Tony said as he raised a hand and blasted at a wall. It burst, the hole damaging the infrastructure and causing the top to start crumbling. “This moron thinks that we can advance society by changing our genome, because biologists are lame and they can’t do anything that’s actually cool. Just look at what happened to Bruce.”

“He’s a biologist and you’re an engineer! He’s staying out of your turf,” Steve threw the shield at a bunch of guards who came rushing out, “it’s courtesy. What, do you _want_ him to compete with your business?”

“As if a moron like that can ever hope to compete with me. If he tried, at least I would have some modicum of respect for him.”

 _“No you wouldn’t,”_ Bruce interceded. _“Just when am I supposed to join you guys?”_

“Hold it, chuckles,” Tony hovered up to view the scene. “We’ll get your smashing in. Pinky-swear.”

“Just because you don’t have respect for biology,” Cap went on, “doesn’t mean it’s not worth investing in.”

“Yeah, you _would_ say that, super-serum and all,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I seem to recall that _Dad_ was the one who engineered it, not Osbi—“

A loud _boom_ interrupted him, and the team broke off from the conversation to address the source. Natasha ran forward, lithe body agile and dark. Steve followed soon after. Tony hesitated before hearing a loud roar, followed by another _boom_ behind him as the ground shook.

“Yeah, go for it,” he muttered as Hulk rushed past.

With the lull in conversation in lieu of fighting, Tony’s mind turned back to the problem of his missing ward. He was six hours away from where he could be of any use. Peter could be tortured, like he had been. The child could be dead. His body moved robotically, without him being conscious of it.

Weird how when it came to Peter, even in his suit, Tony could not avoid his problems.

 _“I’m downloading this,”_ Natasha’s voice echoed, _“You go check the other rooms.”_

_“You okay, Bruce?”_

_“I’ve been worse.”_

* * *

_“You can drop by,” Richard told Tony, “stick around for a while until things calm down. Live with us common mortals for a change.”_

_“Ha,” Tony managed, but the sound was listless._

_“Your dad’s a piece of work,” Rich went on, “history’s full of those. Guys who are absolute morons when it comes to talking to their sons. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He’s probably just use to saying whatever would make the other person most upset.”_

_Trust Rich to see the point, though it did not make Tony hurt any less._

_“Come on, buddy,” the scientist urged, “come over. I’ll feel better if you mope where I can keep an eye on you. You can even shed a few tears. I won’t tell anyone.”_

_“Pfft. **You** can shed a few tears.”_

_“Maybe I will! So, see you at three?”_

* * *

Swearing, Tony shook himself out of his reverie. He really missed Richard. He was the only person to see Tony break apart and act like it was nothing unusual, that his opinion of Tony remained unchanged. When Richard and Mary died, Tony had wept for them. After getting very drunk, but he had mourned.

At least he was not as close to Peter, but he could just see his friend, looking at him with condemnation. _You had **one** job, Tony!_

“Iron Man? Yoohoo? You there?”

He blinked, looking up at Bruce, who looked tired and cold.

“We got everything,” said Natasha, “and we’ve left our surprise for them. Let’s go?”

Go back to the world where Peter Parker was missing.

“Yeah, sure,” said Tony. Maybe Peter was home, even as they spoke. Barton _was_ supposed to be one of the best, after all.


End file.
